


Lost One Shots

by Phoebsfan



Category: Lost
Genre: F/M, One Shot Collection
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-06-08
Updated: 2010-05-06
Packaged: 2018-11-16 16:41:14
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 22,511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11256816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Phoebsfan/pseuds/Phoebsfan
Summary: This is a collection of one shots dealing with Kate and Sawyer.  Each chapter is a new story.





	1. Caught in a Net

 

* * *

**Caught in a Net**

_AU scene after Jack, Kate, and Sawyer are captured by the Others.  
_

* * *

 

 

 

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

The only thing that ran through his mind more often than that thought... Well he wasn't going to go there when there was no point.

Something had happened between the two of them. Jack and Kate. Kate and Jack. No, he didn't want to think about it. Didn't want to think about how she watched him, followed him like a fucking puppy dog. Caught in a net... Sure.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He wasn't supposed to care. She was just supposed to be a distraction on this godforsaken island. Instead he finds himself doing stupid things and getting all turned around. Caught in a net. Yeah... right.

She scares him. It's something he won't ever admit to. But he remembers the last time he felt this way and how it ended. He won't hurt her like that. So when he thinks she feels like he does. When he feels her eyes on him instead of their fearless leader. He takes actions to ensure she runs away. He's always been good at self sabotage.

She deserves better. Though he can't see Jack as better. Jack would never go for a girl like her. It's only the island and the lack of anyone else that makes him think he would. Out there she'd never be good enough for him. He's too self righteous, too black and white. She's made up of gray, wonderfully risky, and entirely too unsteady to be made into some doctor's trophy wife. He could never take her home.

She only thinks she wants a good guy. She'd grow tired of it.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

He wasn't going to let anything happen to her. But then Michael comes along and it's time for Jack to play solider. For being such a 'follow the rules,' kind of guy... It's damn annoying that he didn't think to mention they'd been betrayed. Sure he wanted to help Michael as much as the next guy and hell wouldn't he love to shoot that bastard who put one in his shoulder and almost put one in her head. But now he's never gonna get that chance. Instead he's gonna stay locked in this room, six by six, a cot, a toilet, and an awful smell to keep him company.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

They better keep their hands to themselves, cause if they hurt her...

Well it wasn't supposed to be like this.

 

 

She tried not to think about the others. Tried not to wonder where they'd taken Jack and Sawyer. Tried not to wonder what they were doing to them and if she'd be next. Instead she focused on trying to find a way out and when that option had quickly been exhausted, she moved on to counting the spots on the ceiling.

She supposed it was only right that she'd end up in a cell. After everything she'd done it seemed fitting. Didn't mean she liked it though. She'd give anything for some company right about now. It had been two days since they pulled that sack over her head. Two days since she'd seen anyone else at all. Honestly she didn't even know if two days was an accurate estimate. She had no way of telling time other than the artificial light they shot in her room, like in the hatch. It bothered her that her cell came equipped with it's own "sun." The implications were something she didn't spend a lot of time dwelling on.

Something she did spend a lot of time dwelling on was Jack and how he'd failed to mention Michael's little deal. How he didn't seem to care what the rest of them thought. How he'd continued to piss _them_ off even with a gun to her head. It would be okay to go to the line and look for Walt and Michael because they hadn't wanted her. Guess he'd been wrong. She'd bet he was more irritated by the fact that he was wrong than that he'd gotten the rest of them into this mess.

And yet she'd still been willing to follow him blindly. Still turned to him in the end.

It wasn't supposed to be like this.

She was supposed to be able to like him. She was supposed to be able to talk to him. She wasn't supposed to feel sorry she kissed him. He was attractive. He was a doctor, he was good. So what if he was single minded to the point where it was dangerous to be around him sometimes. He was just doing the right thing.

But it didn't feel like the right thing sometimes. Sometimes nothing felt like the right thing.

Kissing Jack hadn't been nearly as exciting as she'd thought it would be. It felt wrong. And she supposed it was because she'd been trying to prove something to herself. Being caught in the net with him hadn't been so bad, well except for the net part. He didn't seem to want to touch her unless she was tangled in a net with him or upset.

Sawyer however, had eyes like hands. And he couldn't keep those off her.

No, it wasn't supposed to be like that.

But she'd catch his eye from across the fire late at night and she knew exactly what he wanted. He was comfortable and familiar but still capable of surprising her. And there was definitely something arousing in the way he flirted. Jack didn't really bother to flirt. But Sawyer...

He was predatory, insistent. And yet just when she was about to jump him, he'd turn her away. It was maddening at times.

She tried to convince herself she hated it. Hated the way he made her feel. And she did. She hated knowing that she was capable of feeling that way. Good people didn't want to do the same things to him she wanted to. They didn't feel like they'd explode if they didn't.

And yet he was gentle as well. He'd be the first there with open arms.

He seemed to always know exactly what she needed or wanted.

Jack was oblivious.

The more she thought about it the more angry it made her, because she knew if given a choice... if she could have one of them in there with her she'd choose Jack. He was safe.

She also knew it would be the wrong choice... wouldn't make her feel any better.

Her heart always wanted to choose _him_.

Caught in a net... Yeah.

It wasn't supposed to be this way.


	2. He Remembers

 

* * *

**He Remembers  
**

_AU in which Sawyer and Kate have drinks before the island_

* * *

 

She didn't remember him. Of that he was sure.

It had been awhile, they'd only shared a few drinks.

Had to have been almost four years.

But he remembered her.

He always remembered the ones who got away.

It had been raining, cold and damp. He was between jobs and feeling restless, so he'd headed down to the local bar to get wasted.

He'd only been sitting there for a few minutes when she'd walked in. All wide eyed and scared.

He had let her drown her sorrows alone for awhile. Drinking like there was no point in having a tomorrow. Watched as she'd turned guy after guy down. Knew she wanted to be alone.

Hell he knew the feeling.

So he'd planned on leaving her alone. Planned on letting her drink herself silly and watching the show. Watched as each glass pressed against her full bottom lip. Pretended to know her story.

She was running from something, that much was certain. She didn't take her eye of the door for long, knew her exits from the moment she walked in. Her eyes, cold and untrusting. He wondered what it would take to melt her.

How much charm would he have to use before she was pressing that bottom lip to his? How long before he could get her in his bed?

Women were easy, you just had to know which buttons to push. And he suddenly very much wanted to press hers.

Her tight green shirt would look great on his floor next to those denims.

So he let himself stare. Let himself undress her in his mind. Questioned whether or not he wanted to make it real.

She finally looked over at him and it answered his question. She tipped another back and he wondered how well she held her drink. He hoped she was still up for it.

Slipping into the seat beside her he played as if she wasn't even there. Let her start the conversation. Make it her idea.

"Can I help you with something?" She finally asked. Her green eyes meeting his. Her dark curly hair fell around her face, hiding her features.

He wanted nothing more than to feel it wrapped in his hands.

"Just having a drink. You want one?" He smirked.

"Got one. Thanks." And then she was silent. No doubt letting her thoughts claim her full attention again.

He shifted in his seat. She flicked a peanut shell across the bar.

A man approached from the other side.

"Can I buy you a drink sweetheart?" He asked, looking at her chest the whole time.

Pig.

"I don't think so." He answered for her. Oddly territorial. She chuckled.

"I'm Katie. Thanks for..."

"James. It's no problem."

He still doesn't know why he told her that.

He credits it to the fact that he was drunk. That maybe for one night he didn't really want to be Sawyer.

He just knew that he didn't want to take her home and forget it happened in the morning. Just knew that as much as he wanted those soft hands all over him, he didn't want to pretend that she didn't touch him somewhere deeper.

It was stupid. But somehow he felt like she could break him apart if she wanted to. Even then.

"So. Who are we drinking to?" He asked and when she looked at him, knew that it wasn't the right question. Her eyes, so heartbroken.

"Wayne. Let's drink to Wayne." He held his glass up and waited for her to do the same.

"To Wayne. Good riddance." She smiled again, but it wasn't convincing. She seemed to match his mood completely. Maybe he would take her home after all.

He was in the mood for some punishment. Her voice wrapped around his real name would do nicely.

He slid his hand over, let it rest next to hers on the bar.

"Who are you running from?" She asked. He gave her a lopsided grin.

"Freckles, who am I not running from?"

"Amen to that." She was so young. She should have been spending her night at some frat party, not a bar with a bunch of losers like him. Guys who only wanted to screw her and leave her in the morning.

He smiled to himself, like a frat party would be any different.

At least the guys hitting on her there wouldn't be as old as her father.

"How old are you anyway?" He asked. Wondering for a moment if she was even old enough to be here.

"Old enough. Why you starting to feel like a perverted old man?"

"Got awhile to go before that sweet cheeks."

And so they'd talked. He'd tried to get up the nerve to make a move and then she'd say something and he wouldn't want her anymore. Wouldn't want to hurt her.

Maybe he'd just enjoyed punishing himself with the idea. Every time she laughed, her smile not quite reaching it's full potential. Every time she smiled, tears in her eyes. It was like looking in a damn mirror. She looked as hollow as he felt.

Last call and then she was gone.

He'd gone back for awhile afterward. Not really expecting to see her. Figuring she'd moved on. Wondering what she'd done.

Until out of the blue he crashes on some tropical island with her.

He's certain she doesn't remember.

But he does.

She wonders sometimes.

Why he seems so familiar to her?

She can recall his voice in the back of her mind, it's insistent and yet never quite pushes through to tell her where they've met before.

She knows she has met him before.

It's the only thing that makes sense.

It isn't until he tells her. He's been waiting for four years.

And it hits her.

She wonders why she didn't remember earlier. But then she thinks that everything about that night, the week that followed is blurry.

She'd just blown up her father. Given her mother the insurance papers and ridden out of town. It had only been a week.

It had been a week and she still couldn't get her mother's face out of her mind, still things seemed unreal.

She'd done the right thing. Of course she had.

But it felt like some cosmic finger was pointing her out.

So she'd decided to get wasted in some hick bar, in some hick town. Felt like home.

She didn't remember much about the guys who approached her, too busy wondering where she'd go next.

It wasn't until he sat down next to her that she felt...

To this day she doesn't know what she felt. Something... Maybe.

She'd told him her name was Katie. Only Tom and her mother ever called her that. She'd always been Kathryn or Kate. But she'd found herself telling some complete stranger she was Katie.

He had called himself James.

She wonders if he had changed his name to Sawyer by then. Questions why she hopes that he had. Questions why she wants to think that what he said to her had been special. Rare.

They'd drunk to Wayne. Good riddance, he'd offered. How perfect the sentiment had been.

She'd thought about going home with him. Had made up her mind, and had he asked she would have said yes.

But he had never asked.

She had thought he would. Had spent the last half of there conversation wondering when he was going to sneak it in. Waited until she thought she'd jump him right there. But there was nothing.

And at the end of the night they had parted ways. She'd gotten on her bike and sped off into the night. Never thinking she'd end up marooned on an island with him.

Sometimes she wishes she'd gone home with him.

Sometimes she wonders if he's ever going to make a move.

She wonders if she'll still say yes.

 


	3. Jagged Little Pieces or Beautifully Broken

  
  


* * *

**Jagged Little Pieces; or Beautifully Broken**   
  
_A new look on the hug scene in "?"_

* * *

  
  
  
She always turns her head, always runs away.  
  
There are some things that will always be the same. Unchangeable, immovable.  
  
She'll always run.  
  
I watch her run. I watch her hide. But this island is not big enough for her to run far. And though she's an expert at blocking people out, I see her crack.  
  
She's beautifully broken. Always has been. Some people are just born that way. Ain't nothing you can do to change it. It's just one of those things.  
  
Maybe it's cause I've been there. Maybe that's why I can see past the act. Maybe that's the connection she doesn't believe we share. Refuses to believe that anyone could know how it feels.  
  
She thinks she wants to be alone but every action betrays how she really feels. How she needs to not be alone. Especially now. She's been alone far too long already. She cares too much about other people for it to be good for her.  
  
I'm the last person who should go to her.  
  
She sits, staring at a broken virgin Mary. The symbolism is not lost on me.  
  
The thing I think she doesn't realize, is that we're all lying there in that statue. That there's pieces of us all, all over the place. Some of us realize we're broken, have been for a long time. Others, like Jack for example, don't think there's anything wrong.  
  
She doesn't understand that nobody gets out of this place intact. That maybe we're not supposed to. Maybe we're just supposed to let other people fill in the cracks. Maybe that's what makes us beautiful.  
  
Listen to me get all poetic over some pile of rubble. There ain't nothing symbolic about a pile of trash, ain't nothing beautiful about it either. Just sad.  
  
I've still got little pieces of Ana Lucia poking out of me.  
  
She runs to punish herself, I just choose more entertaining methods.  
  
We really aren't that different.  
  
For instance, I still can't go to her. Still can't explain things to her. Even when I know it's what she needs.  
  
She's still got little pieces of Jack, sharp jagged pieces, poking out of her.  
  
And as she starts to cry, as her tears run down and try to wash everyone out of her cracks, I feel myself crumble a little.  
  
Jack turns to look at me, not clear why I'm hanging around.  
  
Hell if I knew the answer to that...probably would have gotten the hell out of dodge long ago.  
  
His eyes travel past me and see Kate crying in the corner. She can't see either one of us, thinks her soft sobs can't be heard in the stony silence of the next room. But they echo off of empty walls. Compelling me forward.  
  
Still I don't go to her, expect Jack to do that. His job as the hero after all, to rescue the damsel in distress.  
  
But he just turns his back on her. Too caught up in his righteous anger I suppose.  
  
See the thing he doesn't see is that the girls are dead. They ain't coming back. And he can hunt all he wants but it's just revenge. He can call it justice but it ain't. Ain't no such thing as justice, only revenge painted up to look prettier. And it ain't gonna be as fulfilling as he thinks it's gonna.  
  
He can be as angry as he wants but it ain't gonna help no one.  
  
If he wants to be the hero, he should probably remember the ones who ain't going to be covered in dirt in a few hours.  
  
Kate needs him. She doesn't need me.  
  
Just cause she got, 'caught' in some damn 'net' with him doesn't mean I don't feel every sob tear away at something inside.  
  
It also don't mean I don't feel bad about getting, 'caught in a net' with Ana. Doesn't mean I don't I feel like shit when she's next to me.  
  
But you learn to live with that. You learn to get over getting screwed and move on. Kate knows that. Jack will find out one day.  
  
Jack gets up and leaves. I'm sure it's her sobs that chase him away. They probably scare him. He never did learn what to do when he can't fix tings.  
  
Well guess what Jacko, the world ain't pretty. It don't fit into your little plans sometimes and people die. You can't fix everyone. You ain't God.  
  
Stupid bastard.  
  
Hurley gets it. Hurley gets how screwed up the world is. How no one comes out whole.  
  
I almost feel sorry for him. Poor guy was finally getting a break. Shoulda known better though.  
  
The part that makes me go to her. The part that makes me finally slide into the seat beside her and gather her in my arms...  
  
It ain't cause Jack left.  
  
It ain't cause her tears are too much to take. Cause honestly they aren't. I've made plenty of women cry before. Probably'll make plenty more cry.  
  
It ain't even cause of Hurley sitting there staring at Libby's lifeless body.  
  
Funny thing is it's Ana Lucia.  
  
The thing that makes me angry. Makes me want to scream at all of them.  
  
See this side of the island pretty much hated her. And it pisses me off that they're all gonna cry about it. Gonna pretend she's one of the group.  
  
She was one of the biggest friggin outcasts on the damn island. All cause she was doing what she had to. And I get that. Sometimes the things you gotta do ain't gonna be pretty.  
  
It's just not fair.  
  
And yeah life ain't fair.  
  
But still a part of me hates it.  
  
So I go to Kate, not cause it's what I should do, not cause it's what she needs, but cause it's something I gotta do. And if Ana Lucia taught me anything, it was that some things are necessary.  
  
Most of them aren't pretty.  
  
And when she pulls away from me at first, when she turns away and pretends that if she doesn't look at me I won't know. Won't hear her tears, won't feel her pain. When she can't stand the thought of crying in front of me...  
  
I know it's just something she's got to do.  
  
It's who she is and I don't want to change that. So I wait for her to come to me, put my arms around her, let her know I'm not leaving. And she does come to me. Buries her face in my shirt and cries. Letting me fill in a few cracks for a little while.  
  
So yeah, there are some things that will never change. Somethings that are fixed in the sky and there ain't no way around them. We like to believe that it's different. But maybe that's just one of the biggest cosmic jokes of all.  
  
The hope that things are gonna get better.  
  
But the truth is we're always gonna be broken on some table, all our secrets spilling out.  
  
And these immovable truths... one of them is that she's always gonna run.  
  
Guess a part of me just hopes that one day she'll run to me. Maybe it's selfish but there are some things you just gotta do.  
  
And protecting Kate... well it's just one of those things.


	4. Distance

 

* * *

**Distance**

_Post ep for The Glass Ballerina_

* * *

 

He can't touch her.

It's never meant so much to him before.

Before he crashed on this island there were women, loads of them. But not one had been able to evoke this kind of desperate need in him. Not one of them had made him ache inside like this.

Cass had come close. He thinks sometimes that maybe she could have filled the hole he dug for himself. Thinks maybe it would have been possible to let her in, if he just would have held out. But life had gotten in the way. Consequences of his own making had ruined that chance for them.

With Kate he has a million opportunities. When Kate smiles he's reminded of that.

His life, her's... Here on this island they can begin again.

For so long he's tried to forget that, told himself he could never change. But he's found that bit by bit, piece by little piece, she is changing him.

At first it terrified him, knowing that he would give her almost anything she wanted, just to make her happy. Placing her needs before his. So he fought it, pushed against the bond she was forming, tore away all the little strings she tied around his heart.

He doesn't understand how it could hurt so much, he's used to being on his own. To not caring. Yet when he finds himself alone, out of her favor, he feels like he's bleeding all over the place. Like a large portion of him is missing.

He doesn't understand this new feeling, of wanting to hold her in more than a physical way. Of wanting to wrap her up and keep her away from everything that could possibly hurt her. He knows she's a strong woman, knows she would hate for him to try that.

He blames it on the dress, on the marks on her wrists, on the way her eyes glisten in the darkness. Her voice catches on his name.

He tells her she tastes of strawberries, which isn't all together true. She tastes of sweat and tears, of wind and rain. She tastes like freedom and life. But he doesn't want to scare her away, she's so skittish when it comes to this, so he settles for sweet. She's not ready to hear how she breathes the life back into him, makes him wonder if for her he could change, become a better man.

And he's not the kind of man who would tell her those things anyway. He's a man of action, which makes the distance between them all the more unbearable.

He couldn't miss that look in her eyes when she asked him about the Other's faces, when she asked if he'd seen their fear, that untamed look of pride, of lust. He thought he'd die from the need to be next to her, running his hands over her, drowning in her lips.

She might as well be on another planet for all the distance between them. It's on his mind all the time now. He never thought about her this much before, when he wanted to touch her, he would.

He'll give anything just to simply brush her arm.

He is so damn pathetic. Becoming obsessive about it.

He supposes it's cause he isn't good at no. Always wants what he can't have.

Kate has always been off limits. It's never been more black and white than right now. He can look all he wants, think about it, crave it. But he can only steal a few moments of contact, a few exhilarating seconds of her skin against his.

That was what had motivated him earlier. Looking over at her, suffering, miserable and alone, and so fucking beautiful he could barely stand it. She really had no idea.

Sure he'd been planning a way to test them all morning, ever since he woke up in that damn cage really. But he'd never intended to get her involved in it, never intended to risk her life as well. And then she'd been so... so... Kate. He hadn't been able to stop it.

Once he's made up his mind about something, there's no stopping him. Which apparently he'd done when he caught her wiping the sweat from her forehead, bent over in the sun. He wonders if she knows exactly what she does to him. Knows exactly how it tugs at him.

She's always been manipulative, he loves her for it, but sometimes he wonders if she's just playing him. Surely she can't be so naive. She'd called him on checking her ass out, she had to know he was thinking about more than her ass.

Needing more than just her presence.

He'll be the first to admit, sex is not an option here, but he doesn't just want that with her anymore. He'll sell whatever is left of his soul, to hold her hand. Die happy, if he can wrap her in his arms once more.

Especially when she looks at him like she does now. When he can see his need reflected in her eyes. When he can see her struggle, hear it in her voice.

When he knows the only things that separate them now are made of iron, rusty, and physically holding them back.

When she kisses him back, answers him look for look, taste for taste.

They communicate with their eyes mostly now. Telling secrets no one can hear, but are obvious to anyone who looked.

He knows that when they let him out of here he will touch her again. He will try and kiss her again. Feeling like this makes him stupid. Makes him forget things, like where he is and what he should and should not do.

No amount of electricity is going to cancel out the charge he gets from her. No amount of pain erase the pain of missing her.

He knows he should be more cautious, but that has never been his style. For the first time in a long time he feels alive. She's done that to him.

He feels defiant, not complacent. That feeling that had taken him by surprise, he's been so easy going lately, so willing to do what people want him to. He doesn't know when it had quietly taken over, but looking back it's all he sees, a dreary dull complacency that sucked the life out of all his interactions.

Her kiss has charged him again. The fight is back.

He sees it's back for her as well. He tries not to feel to proud, tries not to think that it was his kiss that pulled her out of herself again. Put the spark back in her eyes.

They'd be royally screwed if they started to fall for each other. Just end up broken in the end.

But he still tastes her, still feels her skin on his.

She smiles and he's lost again. Grips the bars that separate them, squeezes so hard his hands start to go numb.

She smirks, tells him she's tired and is going to sleep.

He watches, wishes he was the rock she slept on, the air surrounding her, the breeze that teased her hair. Wishes he could kiss her softly, whisper in her ear, feel her body shake with laughter as he pressed her close.

So he's never wanted something so badly. Never been so frustrated.

When they get out of here, she's going to know. Every minute he can't touch her now, ever second, he's counting. Adding up a list of missed opportunities in his mind. He will pay her back, with interest.

He sits and watches her, coming up with a new list. A list of ways he can get around these rules, of places and ways he can touch her without them knowing. He plans to seize every opportunity he can.

It's the only way he's going to get through this.

And if their earlier conversation was any indicator, he thinks maybe she's up for the game. That finally her head is in it, as well as her heart.

It's a new and exhilarating side of her that he can't wait to explore.

Hopefully he won't have to wait too long.


	5. Four Letter Words

* * *

**Four Letter Words**

_Four little letters that seem to decide everything. A post ep for Every Man For Himself ep 3x04_

* * *

Her stomach sinks.

Why does she do these things?

Because he's an ass, because he pissed her off, because she was scared to death he was going to... They were going to...

And he wouldn't tell her anything.

He deserves it, asked for it.

She tears her eyes away from his broken face, tries to ignore the way his eyes glaze a bit.

She wants to take it back... She wants to crawl back out of her cage and feel his arms around her.

No, no she doesn't. She can't.

She doesn't need him. She doesn't. Oh God, she doesn't need him.

His face haunts her most of the night. Truthfully, it will probably haunt her for the rest of her life, however long that is.

Every time she hears him shift in his sleep, it hits her again. Like the first time she realized she didn't want to do this without him. That she might not be able to anymore.

This island has changed her. The things she's learned and done since crashing here have made her a new person. It's a surprising realization, because for as much as she's changed there's a part of her that hasn't. It's the part that makes her want to push him away.

So she's at war with herself. His labored breathing only reminds her.

His dimples cause her to smile and yet irritate her as well. His crude comments both excite and disgust her. So she fights this war inside the only way she knows how, and finds that both sides win at times. That they each have there own battles to claim victory to.

Lately, it feels like one side will finally win, and if she's honest with herself she knows one side already has. If she's honest with herself, as she's taken to being late at night when he is asleep across from her, she knows that the battle is over, the last stragglers fighting with all they have, hopelessly outnumbered. Part of her is so desperate not to love him, it takes complete control when she's not careful.

He terrifies her. He always has. Because from the beginning he has been able to see through her. Knows her better than she thinks she knows herself at times.

And though she finds she can't leave him physically, emotionally is a different story.

And though he sees through all the shit she puts out there, she's afraid that this time, when she really needs him to see through it, he won't.

She's afraid she's never going to be able to tell him. She's afraid he already knows.

She's afraid they are going to die here, in separate cages, alone and angry.

If he were awake she might tell him. She might tell him how sorry she is that she can't be what he wants her to be, how she never meant to hurt him, or maybe she did, but is sorry all the same.

In the darkness it's easy to talk to him, like her secrets are still locked safely away in the night. The protective barrier of black keeps all her secrets safe from the brightness of day. Forms an invisible shield, that can only be penetrated under the stars.

She could love him... if he woke up.

But he doesn't wake, and perhaps that is their story. One of them will always be asleep. One of them will always fight it. Because every time she finds herself willing to give him a little more, she's left alone in the sun offering everything she possibly can, while he points and laughs, all her secrets bleeding out into daylight where anyone can see them.

So she sleeps little, tosses and turns on the cold stone underneath her. Watches him from across the way, wondering what it would feel like to be tucked up next to him. She knows he'll do anything to keep her safe. She's just beginning to understand what that means.

When she finally does drift off, it's with a heavy heart and empty arms.

When she tells him she doesn't love him. That she only wanted them to stop.

He thinks he deserves it.

He doesn't quite believe her as she climbs back into her cage, she is after all willing to face captivity with him again.

He doesn't quite question it until she mirrors Jack, and then it feels like she's ripped his heart out and spit on it. Slapped him in the face.

He was beginning to believe she felt something too. Beginning to believe that if he pressed his lips to hers, she'd answer eagerly.

Now he doesn't know, and can't believe how much it hurts.

One woman should not have such power over him, but he's beginning to realize she always has.

That's why when he's tired of playing by her rules, he throws them back in her face.

Because he can't keep playing this game with her. He doesn't have the strength to fight her in all things. She's his weakness and he tries so hard to hide that. People like him are out there, people who would exploit it.

He must be failing miserably though. Because they know.

They know exactly how to make him do anything they want him to do. It's a four letter word that is written across his heart. He doesn't know who wrote it, she'll never claim credit for that. And he doesn't know how it happened, but four little letters seem to have claimed that area, previously closed for repairs.

Four little letters that seem to decide everything.

K-A-T-E

So when she spells out the word in her heart, in not so many words.

J-A-C-K

He thinks maybe his shatters a little.

The thing is, he doesn't know this time. He can't tell if she's lying to him.

Oh he wants to believe it, more than anything he wants to believe that she wanted to hurt him like he was hurting her. And that was ok, he could understand that, was maybe even a little grateful for it. It told him she wasn't unfeeling. That she did care.

And as much as he hates keeping secrets like this from her, he knows she'll understand why he did it in the end. At least he hopes she'll understand.

He hurts for her, for the fear and anger that he knows she is keeping bottled up inside. For the way they haven't spoken to each other in hours, instead just turned their backs to each other and pretended to sleep.

He wants to hold her and tell her everything. To take some of her fear away. But he cannot risk her life for some silly wish of his. He will not ruin her life as well.

For about the millionth time since she'd climbed back into that cage, he wishes she would have run.

He feels her eyes on him and tries to will the intense desire that is growing steadily inside, away. It doesn't take long for his watch to start beeping again.

"Freckles, I swear to God if you don't go to sleep you are going to kill me." She'll never know just how true that is.

"Shut up, Sawyer." It is the only thing they utter before he falls asleep. The only thing that will pass between them before Ben will wake him in the morning and take him to some damn hill in the middle of nowhere, tell him what a dumb fuck he is for believing.

He will go back to his cage angry, knowing how absolutely pointless it was. She will still be angry with him and he will have to start all over again with her.

But he's not completely sorry it happened.

He knows now just how far he's willing to go for her. He knows now that she's not going to leave him and that Jack doesn't have a prayer.

He's chosen to believe she will ultimately chose him, that she can't help it any more than he can and though he's tried to fight it, he's lost that battle.

He just wishes it wasn't so obvious at times.

He wants to protect her, but he's becoming her biggest liability.

As he walks back to her, a new feeling hits him and he's surprisingly happy. His anger melts away.

They may be stuck here, but they are stuck together and there isn't anyone in the world he'd rather be stuck with than her. And though they are imprisoned, he's never felt more free.

"Sawyer!" She calls out when he reaches view of her cage. He wonders how long she's been standing there waiting, worried. He knows he has to break the tension between them. He knows it's up to him to make her smile again.

"Good morning, Kate. Miss me?" He forgoes the normal nicknames, though he doesn't think she understands just how precious each one of her freckles has become to him, he knows that using her name will get her attention and say more than a nickname ever could.

And it works, he can see it in her eyes. Can see how sorry she is that she backed away from him. Can see how much he means to her. Can see all her anger and fear melt away. He wonders if she reads him as easily. Hopes she does.

"Shut up, Sawyer." She can feel her cheeks redden just a bit and hopes that she's still dirty enough to hide it. His eyes rake over her and she knows that something has changed in him.

Whatever yesterday's crisis was, it's over. Part of her will always wonder, what it was, what they'd done to him, threatened him with. But she's so grateful to see his dimples again that she can't help but be happy as well.

He keeps his eyes on hers as Ben ushers him back into his cage. Asking her silently if she's alright, she gives him a small nod. Now she is.

For so long she's wondered. Now she knows.

When she'd woken up without him, she'd thought for a moment that she wouldn't be. That things could never be ok again. She had just barely decided to climb out of her cage and go look for him. The crazy things he makes her do...

"Now, is that anyway to talk to the man you love?" He asks when the others have left and he is locked back up in his cage, a safe distance from her. He knows that if he doesn't have bars between them, he will not be able to keep himself from her side.

"Thought I told you I didn't love you." She smirks, hanging on the bars of her cage across from him. He rests his elbow on a bar, rests his chin on his hand without a care in the world.

"So you did, but we both know you're a horrible liar." he smirks, flirting back with her and enjoying her rare smile.

"Keep it up and I might have to come over there and show you how much I hate you at the moment." The words catch in her throat and if he has any doubts about whether or not she loves him, they are gone with the look in her eyes.

"Oh Baby, you shouldn't make promises you don't intend on keeping. Will it help if I beg?" He growls, knowing they are going to be ok.

Kate simply rolls her eyes.


	6. Unspeakable

* * *

**Unspeakable**   
_I Do filler_

* * *

  
  
She loves him.  
  
It definitely caught her off guard. She wonders when he crept in, when her thoughts of disgust turned into something more powerful and consuming. Looking back though she knows he's owned a part of her for far too long.  
  
It's his fault entirely. He was the one who had to be so much like her, had to see through every front she put up. Had to kiss her, and hold her, and accept her when no one else could possibly understand her.  
  
And now she's going to lose him.  
  
It's a fact, everyone she loves leaves her. Everything she touches corrupts and corrodes. It's been this way her entire life. Why should things change now?  
  
No, she thinks this time she will not let it happen. She will not let death or circumstances beyond them both, take him from her. She will fight it, as she fought these feelings. He has to know she fought him for so many reasons, only one being the fear of losing him.  
  
She can't count the number of times she's resisted touching him, talking to him, being with him because of that fear. How many times she's lied to herself about it.  
  
She's becoming very good at fooling herself, so good that in this situation, she didn't even know she was. She wonders how transparent she's been, and how neither one of them would admit, own up to what they were thinking and feeling. She's seen that look on his face before, wonders how often it's been mirrored on hers.  
  
She loves him.  
  
It's something she just realized. She could blame it on the sex. Could say that it's just the afterglow, all the endorphins in her blood telling her she cares. But she knew before, knew in that instant he pulled her to him and told her why she did the things she did. Let his lips explain to her what she did not want to understand.  
  
It's something she's been questioning for days. When Pickett asked her, it slipped out unexpectedly. It was easier to deny back then, when Sawyer hid from her and bars separated them. Easier to claim that of course she loved him, he was the best friend she had on this island, but that didn't mean she was in love with him. With those barriers between them it was easier to forget her words entirely.  
  
Seeing Jack, should have erased them. Jack was her friend as well, Jack cared too, and he was all alone. She thinks that there should have been room in her heart for him as well. But all she could do was beg for Sawyer's life, all she could think about was what they'd done to Sawyer. How she needed to get back to him. She wonders if Jack could read that as well. Wonders if he was surprised that her tears were not for herself but for someone else.  
  
It may have been the first time in her life when she's cried for someone else.  
  
She told herself afterward that it was for her, that she was just afraid to lose him. But now she sees that those tears started when Jack asked her something that had nothing to do with losing Sawyer. Jack had wanted to know about her. If they'd hurt her. She'd just connected the two.  
  
She supposes they did, whether it was intentional or not she may never know for certain, but she suspects it was. Suspects that every bruise on his body was meant to hurt her just as much. Suspects that they've known how invested she is in him from the beginning. Just as she's seen him eye her wounds, seen that look of defiance and hatred flash through his eyes quickly replaced by concern. She knows that if they hurt her they hurt him. She hasn't been that connected to anyone in a long time.  
  
So long, she's forgotten how it feels.  
  
She finds that every time she thinks about Jack her thoughts wander back to this cage. When she wonders how Jack's doing her thoughts stray to how Sawyer is. If Jack is still angry with her or if his anger has faded like Sawyer's did. When she thinks about Jack it's always in direct correlation to Sawyer, almost as if Jack is just an afterthought. A tag along.  
  
At first she thought that was due to the fact that Sawyer was very much a part of her everyday, where Jack was locked away somewhere unreachable. Thought it was only natural to be concerned with the things in front of her and not think about what she could not see. But she remembers now when Sawyer left her here and how her thoughts were with him the entire time. She also remembers not too long ago when he sailed away on a raft and how even when Jack was with her, her thoughts always strayed to the raft, to the bottle that had washed up on shore.  
  
Those thoughts had been so easy to dismiss as concern for the rescue effort. But even then she wondered why she couldn't ever just focus on what Jack wanted or needed, why Sawyer always seemed to be sitting in the background. Her time with Sawyer was rarely it seemed, interrupted by thoughts of Jack. Only when she was angry with him did she bring Jack into it.  
  
She sees now how foolish she's been, how much time she has wasted punishing both men for something they had no control over. Something she refused to see. And she wishes she could take it all back. Wishes that when he was returned to her the first time, with a hole in his shoulder, that she'd told him. That instead of denying those feelings she clearly understood she was having for him, she'd done something to figure them out.  
  
Wishes that she'd understood whatever she and Jack had could never feel like this.  
  
Because come tomorrow, Pickett will be back, and now there is nowhere to run. She can't run from something that lives inside of her, and though she's tried to in the past she's tired of it. She doesn't want to anymore.  
  
So she sits wrapped in his arms, knowing that she does love him and wishing she could speak the words. Wishing that she could answer with more than a kiss.  
  
All her life she's heard that actions speak louder than words, but this time it doesn't seem like it's enough. Doesn't seem like anything could possibly be enough, but she wants to try.  
  
What he doesn't understand, what no one ever can understand, is that those words are a death sentence. Does she feel them? Yes. Does she want to say them? More than anything in the world. But she won't.  
  
And yes, she is afraid to say them. And yes, this feeling is at times terrifying because it is so overwhelming. But the fear that chokes her, that keeps those words locked deep inside has nothing to do with the way she feels for him. It has nothing to do with the fact that he might not feel the same way or that she doesn't want them to sound trite.  
  
She won't say them because she won't lose him.  
  
She will not lose him.  
  
Because she does love him. Because he's the best damn thing that's happened to her in a long time and it's about time she got something good. Because she knows that she's never in a million lifetimes going to find something else that comes close to this moment.  
  
So though she loves him, he can never know just how much. Her actions will have to tell him, because her words can't. Maybe tomorrow when the threat is less real, maybe when they are back on their beach, maybe months from now or years even, after time has passed enough to disprove her theory.  
  
But until that day, those three words will always mean something else. Something she cannot let touch him. She's sick of saying goodbye, sick to death of losing everything.  
  
Maybe she'll find other words that mean what those three should. She doubts it, worries that if she does those words will turn just as ugly. She wishes she could tell him why she can't tell him, but that too she fears. Thinks it's the same as telling him she loves him, thinks it too will spell goodbye.  
  
At times she worries that even thinking it means he's a goner. But she can't make herself stop thinking it. Doesn't want to. If she can't tell him, she wants to take comfort in knowing it's true. Doesn't want to hide it from herself as well.  
  
So she can only hope that what she can give him will be enough, because she knows if it isn't, none of it will matter anyway.  
  
Loving him is a double edged sword. She could lose him both ways. But she'd rather have him alive hating her for not loving him, then dead. She hopes that it will never come to that, that the danger will have passed before he reaches that point, that the fear will have diminished, and the taint of death that hangs over those words will be erased.  
  
But for now she will not tell him. She cannot tell him.  
  
She will know it, and that will have to be enough.  
  
It's for his own good.


	7. Unsettled; or Dharma Beer, bringing people together since... well, we can't tell you

* * *

**Unsettled; or Dharma Beer, bringing people together since... well, we can't tell you  
**

_Season 3: What if Kate went back to the beach and shared a few not so cold ones with Sawyer instead of going to free Jack from Otherville?_

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

_I am a hostage to my own humanity. Self-detained and forced to live in this mess I've made. And all I'm asking is for you to do what you can with me. But I can't ask you to give what you already gave. Cause I've been housing all this doubt and insecurity and I've been locked inside that house; all the while you hold the key. And I've been dying to get out and that might be the death of me. And even though there's no way of knowing where to go, I promise I'm going, because I gotta get out of here I'm stuck inside this rut that I fell into by mistake. I gotta get out of here and I'm begging you. I'm begging you. I'm begging you to be my escape. I fought you for so long, I should have let you in. Oh how we regret those things we do. All I was trying to do was save my own skin, but so were you. So were you.  
\- Relient K- Be My Escape_

* * *

* * *

* * *

 

"You can't go right now." He called out after her.

Kate spun around to face Desmond, she'd just left the beach on her way to find Rousseau. Small talk with Desmond was the last thing she had time for.

"Look, I don't really have time for this. Jack needs our help." She spun around and started off again. Daylight was burning and she was pissed at Sawyer, at Locke and Sayid, at herself.

She'd thought that once she'd chosen between the two men in her life things would get easier. Yet here she was, alone and disappointed. Once more leaving her problems behind. She tried to tell herself she wasn't running away. That Sawyer didn't want a relationship with her, that he'd never be able to give her more. The trouble was that his words kept ringing in her ears.

Sawyer may not have wanted her, but James did, and leaving everything so... so... unsettled, made her nervous and jumpy. It made her easily irritated and annoyed. But most of all it just left her with that sick sinking feeling.

"Kate... Wait." Desmond called after her, caught up with her and grabbed her arm.

Wait.

She was tired of waiting. Tired of holding her breath and closing her eyes, hoping for something that seemed impossible. Why couldn't everyone see that sitting around wasn't going to solve any of their problems? It wasn't going to bring Jack back. It wasn't going to soften Sawyer's heart, or remove his insecurity.

Hell, he probably didn't even know she was gone.

"I can't. Not anymore. Jack needs-"

"You need rest. You can't just walk back in there and you know it. You need help if you want this to succeed." Desmond interrupted, his eyes earnest, his face fixed in a serious scowl.

The whole thing was beginning to creep her out. Last she saw this man he was busy ignoring everyone else and getting wasted. The time before that he was running away from responsibility. Now he cared about how exhausted she felt? Who the hell was he anyway? And why in the hell did he think she'd listen to him?

Still... he had a point. One night wouldn't make much of a difference, would it? She could rest and convince the others to help.

Besides it would get dark in a couple of hours and she'd have to stop anyway. She wasn't extremely fond of the idea of spending the night alone in the jungle either, but it was something she was willing to do. Jack needed their help, he saved the man she loved, the least she could do was try to help him.

That was what Sawyer couldn't see. Jack had given her something that Sawyer couldn't give her. Something she never thought she'd want, but found herself needing. Jack had given her a second chance, the opportunity to tell Sawyer. Then he'd given them the freedom they needed to go down that road.

How on earth was she supposed to just let that go?

Maybe Jack's sacrifice had been in vain, maybe she'd been wrong about what Sawyer wanted, but he'd given them the opening. She couldn't just forget that.

Couldn't forget that this time a few days ago, she'd thought that there was no hope. Wouldn't forget it.

It hurt, to be torn like this. To know that the man who cared enough to give up his freedom was locked away somewhere so she could be with the man who seemed to want nothing more with her. To know what being with James was like, and being stuck with Sawyer. To be so confused about all of it.

Coming home was supposed to make it all better. Instead it felt like everything was falling apart around her.

"Come back to camp, Kate. Tomorrow we'll get a team together and go get Jack. You know it makes sense."

"But... He saved... and..." She tried to object as Desmond gently coaxed her to turn around.

He was right, she was exhausted. So damn tired, and not in the least bit excited to stare across the beach at Sawyer. How stupid was it that she missed him already? Was everyday going to be like this, or would things get easier?

Would knowing what they could have had stop hurting?

Truthfully she didn't want to be home, didn't want to be on the same beach with him knowing what she knew.

But she let Desmond lead the way.

He left her on the beach and she headed to the shore, let her body fall to the sand, drew her knees up and watched the surf and sunset, to weary to make it back to her tent just yet.

He felt like the world's biggest prick.

He was so damn insecure when it came to her. She didn't realize just what it meant when he offered her his damn heart like some sap. Some lovesick puppy.

But she was right and he knew it.

He thought she'd been slipping away. Maybe it was easier that way, maybe he wouldn't have to change. Jack was better for her, so why did she seem to want him?

She had to know he'd just break her heart.

A few nights ago he'd been so certain. Things had been so clear. Holding her close to him, listening to her heartbeat, watching her sleep. God, he wanted it. But he couldn't have that.

And it was so much easier to blame her.

But as he made his way back to the beach, beer in hand, as he watched everyone else. Sun and Jin, Claire and Charlie, it was hard not to look for Kate. Hard not to want her next to him.

She hadn't been around, word around camp was she was already on her way to save her hero.

It stung, more than the damn dart, it pierced something inside. Not that it made a difference, but as he popped the tab on his beer, he wished she was by his side. Wished they could get drunk together, laugh and tease each other. Wished she'd follow him into his tent and claim her spot in his bed.

As much as he wanted to fight it, he knew deep down inside that no amount of convincing, was going to make him believe what he kept trying to tell himself. He wasn't better off without her, he wasn't stronger, and the empty spot next to him wasn't going to keep her safe or happy.

Hell, part of him wanted to hold her hand as he walked by everyone. Part of him wanted everyone else to know that she was his, whether he wanted her or not. Part of him wanted to tell her about what happened out in the jungle, wanted to see her face light up with laughter when he told her about Roger the work man, about Jin learning English and Hurley and Charlie's narrow escape.

"Talk to her. Convince her to wait till tomorrow. If she goes out there tonight, you won't see her again." Desmond commented as he walked by, threw the mostly empty bottle of scotch into Sawyer's lap.

"What the hell?" Sawyer snarked. "And I'm supposed to believe you see the future, eh Doc?"

"I don't care what you believe."

"Do I look like McFly to you?"

Desmond shrugged and walked off.

He shook his head in disbelief as he lifted the bottle of scotch to his lips to get the last swallow, paused mid way as his eyes caught her form. She was sitting, staring out at the damn ocean again. Her arms wrapped around her knees.

She looked so damn depressed. So fucking pitiful.

He picked up two cans of beer and stood up. He didn't have to do anything but keep her here. Charlie had told him stories, as had Hurley, maybe it was all coincidence, but he sure as hell wasn't going to test the theory.

He didn't have to tell her he was sorry, didn't have to tell her she was right. Even if he did feel that way. He just had to sit with her and keep her from running away. He could do that.

"Cheer up, Freckles, wouldn't want your face to freeze that way." He tossed out softly as he dropped the beer in her lap and sat next to her.

"Where did you find beer?" She really wanted to ask what he thought he was doing. Tell him that she didn't want him here with her. Even if she did.

"I didn't." He offered softly. He tossed his beer back quickly, watched her out of the corner of her eye as she opened her can and took a deep swig..

"This tastes like shit." She nearly spit it out and he chuckled.

"Yup." He agreed. Fascinated by the way the wind tugged at her hair, and the sunset cast a golden aura of light across the escaping wisps. In his mind he was back in his cage, his fingers tangled in her dark curls.

"And yet... Got anymore?" She questioned, turned to face him and noticed for the first time that he was somewhere else. His eyes distant and soft. That hardened look gone, replaced instead with the softer side of him.

She kept her mouth shut, terrified she'd chase him away.

Instead she watched his eyes as they traveled her face. She wished he'd touch her. Longed for his hand in hers, his lips on hers.

"I'm sorry." It came out before he could stop it. He cursed himself silently, but took it back as her face softened, and a smile tugged at the corner of her lips.

"Me too." She whispered, looked around briefly before letting her hand rest next to his in the sand between them.

He looked down at their hands and she mirrored him as he lifted his little finger slightly, brought it down on hers.

She looked away, unable to hide her smile and he felt his lips turn up as well.

He was an idiot. He almost lost this, her, and for what?

He let his finger wander over the back of her hand. Gaining courage when she didn't move away from his caress, his other fingers joined the first as he pulled her hand under his and squeezed it tightly, letting their fingers mesh together.

She kept her eyes on the ocean, the sun danced off her skin, as if it radiated from just under the surface. As if she couldn't contain it.

He finished his beer and chucked the can out into the ocean.

"Litter bug." She teased.

He stood, yanked on her hand and pulled her to her feet as well. The force of the tug caused her to crash into him as she came to her feet.

"Hey." His eyes locked on hers and she swallowed the lump in her throat as her eyes locked on his.

"Hey." She squeaked out. Her eyes warm, tempted to overflow.

She never would have pictured this. Never could have imagined a few months ago that he could make her feel like this. So absolutely dependent on him, and not caring. He was right, they did have a connection, one that had only deepened over time. One that tugged at her heart more with every little space between them.

Kate didn't want to believe in fate, she didn't want to believe that no matter what she did, this would always be the outcome. But sometimes, with him, it was hard to ignore. And as he brushed a stray lock of hair from her cheek, smiled that secret smile he reserved only for her, she wanted to believe that this would never end. If fate was real, she hoped he was hers.

Her answering smile tugged at his heart, that smile always had and probably always would. As if the corners of her lips were somehow connected with string to his heart and every upturn of those lips pulled on that string. He noticed he was still holding her hand, had it clutched to his heart and anyone watching wouldn't be able to deny that something had happened in those cages. But when she smiled like that, when her happiness spilled over into him, and her freckled cheeks beamed just for him, he didn't care who was watching.

"I've got more beer back at my tent." He murmured, took the can from her other hand and chucked it out at the ocean with his.

"That wasn't empty." She objected with a smirk of her own, knowing a proposition when she heard one and not really caring what was left in her can.

"It's gone now. Guess you'll just have to come back with me and get another one." He tossed out casually

"I guess so." Her lips quivered as she tried to look annoyed with him, tried to fight the smile that seemed so at home on her face around him. He chuckled at her efforts, she rolled her eyes and gave up fighting it.

Sawyer turned, tugged gently on her hand and she followed him back to his tent. He held the tarp back as she disappeared inside. Cast a look around the beach and noticed for the first time the eyes on him.

Hurley gave him a thumbs up. Charlie's eyes looked about ready to pop out. Sun smiled and looked away as she dragged Jin away. Desmond locked eyes with Sawyer and nodded.

Sawyer broke eye contact with Desmond and brought his focus back to the main group.

"This ain't a free show. Mind your own damn business." He tossed out gruffly before Kate grabbed his shirt and tugged him into the tent with her.


	8. Not Guilty?

 

* * *

**Not Guilty?  
**

_Kate oneshot on learning how to leave the 'island' behind_.

* * *

She has nothing else.

It's a thought that haunts her late at night, after the world has settled into darkness. When the stillness whispers silence and she has a moment to herself, she remembers that this is all she has.

It's been three years, three long and lonely years that seem to have slipped away so quickly, at least until the sun sets. The contradiction of the passage of time, of the days that disappear and the nights that never seem to end, is puzzling. Yet when sleep should erase those hours, she finds more times than not just how fickle slumber can be.

And so she counts the days, the hours and minutes that have ticked by. Sometimes her eyes sting and her throat clogs when she reaches that final day. When she realizes just how long it has been and how much she doesn't know. They burn and bleed when she realizes she can't remember.

She has no pictures, hidden in a drawer, to pull out when his face has faded. Has no old shirt, his scent caught in the folds and creases. She has no trinkets, no movie tickets from their first date or stuffed animals won at some small town fair. She has none of the trappings, none of the usual love affair artifacts, nothing tangible. Sometimes she thinks it would be easier to move on if she had just one photo, just one saved bit of him that she could touch and know he had touched it too.

She has but her memories, faulty and fading. And a sad little boy who is not hers to love. There are days when she can forget this fact. When she can look into his blue eyes and pretend that he is hers. That his eyes are like his father's. That his father still loves them, wishes for their return.

But that is only a game she plays to alleviate the guilt of knowing just how untrue that lie is.

Most days she will look at those blue eyes and think of his mother. Waiting patiently for his return. A return that Kate herself, prays will never come to be.

Because each day she is learning to let go of the island, she is learning to forget and start a new life in her new prison. She is learning how to survive in her new cage. Trapped by circumstance, by the glamor and glitz of a well cared for existence.

She is learning, because she has to.

It is something that no one else seems to understand.

Her brief encounters with the other six have only served to confirm that. The subtle way they look away. The disgust they try to hide. They'll convict her of being a good mother. They'll convict her of caring too much. But mostly they'll convict her of having the one thing they were unable to obtain themselves.

A new life.

She knows they wonder how she can do such a thing. How she sleeps at night knowing that somewhere a mother cried for her baby. The truth is she doesn't sleep at night. Not well.

In those dark hours, she regrets it.

Everyday, she regrets what they did to leave. She regrets the lies they told and keep telling. She regrets the arms that circle her neck and whisper, 'Mommy, I love you.'

They aren't meant for her.

She doesn't want them.

But she still loves them. Loves knowing that finally someone trusts her, loves her unconditionally.

She wishes that she deserved it.

She told Jack that he had to live with it. But she envies his ability to run from it. She wants to, thinks about it everyday. But she knows that she can't. And maybe it's her own prison, but she knows she deserves far worse.

After what they did...

No one could forgive them. And she's under no illusion that anyone should.

Aaron, is her daily reminder.

It's something he would do. She often thinks about that. About the little things that he would do to remind himself just who he was and what he deserved. About his self destructive behavior, his twisted way of trying to make the world make sense. Like there were some cosmic scales to balance.

He knows now. She's sure of it. He spoke like he didn't believe there was such a thing. Like he understood just how unbalanced those scales always would be. But he didn't really believe it, if he had he would have given up trying.

But now he knows it, Knows that a million should-bes will not make up for what is. That what is will always be a hollow reminder of what could have been. And that what could have been will never be what is.

There are points, lines drawn that can never be undrawn, things that can't be taken back.

And there are unforgivable sins.

She may have walked away from murder. But the worse crime has living victims and living consequences. And those she can never hide from, neither can she face them. Just a terrible limbo of knowing and waiting. The weight only increasing with each new word from a boy's lips. Her sentence prolonged with each breath.

She doesn't know now, why any of it was so important. Can't recall why she did what she did. Doesn't understand her own reasoning. Perhaps looking back is unfair, judging so harshly after the fact, not wise. But she wishes she could take it back. Wishes that she could turn back the clock and stay in bed with him. If she had just listened to him. Just played along with him...

It would have been so easy. And hadn't she been tempted? Why hadn't she known then, what she knows now? Why did it take so much for her to finally understand what he already knew?

Coming back, only brought misery. Coming back, ruined the best thing in her life.

For a long time she could convince herself that this game, this illusion of life, could continue. That in the end nothing was going to change her way of life. But in the back of her mind, she can not shake the knowledge that this too will come to an end.

That one day the little boy she has grown to love, will no longer be hers to care for. That she will have to face the consequences of actions taken.

She has this aching hole inside that refuses to be filled, even with her little boy's dimples. He has saved her time and again, but his arms around her can never be enough, she's a fool to believe otherwise.

It's as if the color has been drained from her pictures. As if time has worn down all the edges that make life exciting and new. Each experience, each moment filtered through darkness and left dull and lifeless, much like her heart. She no longer sees in vibrant reds or sapphire blues. Beige and gray. Pastel excuses in a world that used to be jewel toned.

There are precious few exceptions to the rule. And they all have his smile.

So at night, she watches the stars as her little boy sleeps softly behind her on his bed. Watches the stars and wishes for things she can never have, and the patience to live in this new world she's created for them. She blames only herself, is finally able to come to terms with that kind of responsibility.

She thinks he would be proud of that, that she is no longer running. But this time standing her ground, even when it means she will have to lose everything in the end.

She wonders if he thinks about her. If he misses her, feels the invisible pull between them, or if he has moved on to someone else. She refuses to think he's not watching the same stars. Refuses to believe that he could be resting next to Boone or Shannon. Even though she knows it's likely.

So she'll tiptoe softly over to her son, kiss his forehead and whisper she loves him. Then she'll slide into her bed alone. She'll pull the blankets around her and try and ignore thoughts that claw at her consciousness, that sting in the stillness.

She wants to burn him out, sear his memory from her heart. To never face him again. She wants to hold on and never let go.

Mostly though she just wants to hear his voice. Even if it's only for a moment, she wants to hear the way his southern drawl wraps around her name, the one he gave her. Even when she knows that he will not approve of what she is doing.

If she dreamed, she knows it would haunt her dreams. Perhaps that's why she doesn't. Perhaps that's why when sleep finally does come in the early hours of the morning, her slumber is dark and quiet. Empty and void, imitation of life.

She never should have left him there. Tells herself repeatedly that they had no choice, and if it was the truth she wishes she could believe it. Wishes she didn't have to tell herself time and again that there was nothing to do about it. Wishes she had the guts to tell Jack she wants to go back too sometimes.

But she's vowed not to let it destroy her. Not to let any dream, or hope, ruin the life she has managed to scrape together for her son. That lie is all she has left.

She wants his life to be perfect. It's the least she can do for him. She hopes that it will be enough. That he won't grow up to hate her for not telling him from the beginning. For loving him too much. For not wanting to hurt him. In the end, if that is her only crime: being a good mother...

She can not regret it.

Once Sawyer asked her. If he thought they could play house. She'd thought he was crazy, that there was no way she could settle down and ever be happy.

Now, when she lets herself, it's all she dreams about.

 


	9. Jumping From Helicopters

* * *

**Jumping From Helicopters**

_Whatever Happened, Happened character study_

* * *

She can't help but admire the man that he has become. Can't help the part of her that still loves him.

She can finally admit that to herself. That she did love him, more than she'd loved anyone before him. But even that love hadn't been enough. She hadn't been strong enough, not able to give enough of herself.

She hadn't known how to really love. Neither of them had back then. He's right, they never would have worked out. They both had so much growing up to do. But that never stopped her from thinking about him when his little girl smiled. It never stopped her from wondering if he was ok. It never stopped her from insisting on the little things with Jack, from setting those boundaries between them that ultimately led to their destruction.

But it also never crossed her mind that she would be faced once more with the choice. To love him again would be so much worse this time around. So she wouldn't. She didn't want to hurt him that way. And even though Juliet had never been her favorite person, Kate was glad that she'd found happiness. Having experienced the feeling herself, Kate couldn't take that from her. She was done taking things that weren't hers.

The hardest thing she'd ever had to do was to give up the one thing she loved the most in the world. She wouldn't make someone else go through the same thing.

But that doesn't mean that the feelings aren't still there. It doesn't mean she doesn't miss him. Them.

It was so much easier to miss him long distance. So much easier to cry those silent tears hundreds of miles from him as opposed to the house next door. To wonder rather than to know.

There was too much finality in it. Too little hope. Too real. Too much.

She wonders now, what she ever saw in Jack. Sees him self destruct a little more every day. She's glad she finally learned how to live without. That the constant need for approval had died. Otherwise this would be unbearable. This knowing that the rest of her life will not include either man. Any man.

Oddly enough, she's ok with it. Sure it hurts when she sees what she could have had in another world. But there is no point in dwelling on it. She's learned how to give up those things that will only hurt her. She's learned how to let go.

She knows James better now than she ever did before. Understands him in ways she never could. Sometimes she thinks it's too bad she couldn't have this clarity earlier. That she fought changing so much, for so long, that she missed out on the good things.

Even though it hurts it's also a relief to know some things. To know that he jumped from the helicopter because he had to. Not because he was running, but because it was the right thing to do. He wasn't trying to be a hero anymore than she is by coming back. To lay that fear to rest is almost worth the rest of the truth.

There are some things that just are. Some things that just have to be done. She understands that so much better than she did before.

She has found something that has eluded her all her life. Peace of mind. The knowledge that what she is doing is the right thing to do. There are no doubts. No voice in the back of her mind telling her that she is fooling herself, that she isn't a good person.

Yes, she has made mistakes. Her past is littered with bad choices and wrong turns. But she has learned that she can't live in the past with those mistakes. She has learned she can't undo them by trying to save everyone. She has to live in the present, make the right choices every day. Redemption isn't an all inclusive package. It comes in quiet moments, in little things, slipping in secretly when least expected and disappears just as fast. It comes in living, in continuing on. It's a life long process, there is no switch to flip. And it mostly goes unnoticed, for which she is surprisingly grateful.

Forgiveness is something she has to give herself before she can expect it from anyone else, she has learned. And though there will be consequences for every action, she is no longer afraid to face them. There will be nothing in her life harder than walking out that door and leaving her baby behind. There is nothing to fear in this. This experience is just a temporary state of being, and will pass before she realizes it. So though it hurts when he tells her he's doing it for Juliet, she won't trade a moment of the time she does have with him.

And even if she fails, even if she can't find Claire and her trip back here does nothing more than dredge up old feelings. Even if she never sees Aaron again. There is nothing she can do to change it. If that is the way it is meant to be, then she will be content knowing that she had the best thing she could ever hope to have. She missed nothing and she did her best to do what was best for her son. More importantly, she would do it again in a heartbeat.

She's grateful for every minute she got. She's been more than lucky. She wants to return the favor.

Because now that she's jumped from her helicopter she feels surprisingly free.

In that minute of hesitation before jumping it seemed like her world was going to end. She could not see what the future would hold. She just knew it wouldn't include him. And when she raised her hand to knock on that motel door, she couldn't help but remember all the times she'd been there before. All the times she'd failed to jump. All the times she'd run from that final decision. All the people caught in the crossfire of her recklessness. And she'd known that this time it would be different.

Because it had to be. It was past time she jump.

The fear has been gone since. The doubt and the oppressive worry. And even though the sadness remains, it's bittersweet. It doesn't overwhelm her or encompass her in an immovable field of grief.

There was a time when she thought crashing on a deserted island was the worst thing to happen to her, that going back was something she could never do, now she sees it as one of the best things. It gave her so much more, made her so much more. She can never go back.

She's finding that loving James is something she'll probably always do. It comes to her now as easily as loving Aaron did. But she can give him up for something better. Knowing that he has become what she always hoped he would is healing. Just like Aaron's arms around her neck were.

It's strange the way life works sometimes. Aaron healed her when she lost James. And now James would heal her after losing Aaron, even if he never knew it. Just knowing he would understand, was enough to keep her going when she couldn't quite remember Aaron's voice.

Because she loved them both, she would probably always want to be with them. She's finding that life is like that. That loving often means letting go. But letting go doesn't mean she can't still love them. She would always love Aaron as if he were her own, just as she would always love James for being the man who showed her how to forgive herself and being the only man she would ever love completely.

It just didn't matter anymore. She wasn't looking for someone to love her back. This was finally enough.

* * *

**Chapter 2: Suspended**

* * *

...she's different.

She isn't the same woman who he followed around like a lost puppy all those years ago. She's more quiet, more withdrawn. And he doesn't know what's going on in her head anymore. Surprisingly, he still wants to know.

He's afraid of what she's become. He's not blind, he can see she's grown.

And she doesn't love Jack anymore.

 _That_ terrifies him.

He thought that he was happy with Juliet... No, he is happy with Juliet.

...but Kate...

And this new Kate...

He's been good about staying away from her, he hopes that he can forever. Getting to know the new Kate could be dangerous. He's not a fool. He knows now, not to play with fire. He has a good thing and he loves Juliet.

He's finding however, that doesn't mean he doesn't love Kate as well.

He tells himself it's foolish, that he doesn't love someone he doesn't know.

But he knows those are just lies. He does know her. She has become that woman. The one he always knew she could be. The one who he'd fantasized about so many times all those years ago. It feels like forever, but he still remembers what it felt like to be in her good graces.

And for the first time, he's starting to understand how she could love two men. He doesn't like it. Doesn't want to understand it. He won't let himself think it through any further.

He's always been so good at lying to himself, and it has been such a necessity over the past three years. But he's tired of it.

He didn't think she'd ever come back. He didn't want her to come back. Not because he's afraid of what that means to him and Juliet, but because he didn't want her to have to suffer. He didn't want Juliet to doubt. He didn't want her freckled face to remind him that once upon a time he was head over heels for her.

But the more he gets to know her, the more he realizes something else...

She doesn't need a man to define her anymore.

He's so unbelievably proud of her.

When she confronted him in the jungle there hadn't been time to think about it. But later on he realized just what she was saying to him, even if it was unintentional. He could see it on her face.

She still loved him. But in a way that was different than anything he'd seen from her before.

**She didn't come back for him.**

It shouldn't still hurt him, but he couldn't help but feel his heart clench a bit. He doesn't know why she came back, but for once, it has nothing to do with her once fickle feelings.

He's glad he has Juliet. He doesn't want to ever doubt that. What he has with her is amazing, and surprising, and... safe.

That, he can not lie to himself about. It isn't a secret that what he has with Juliet never has quite the same feel to it. The texture not as rough and ragged, it is smooth and polished by two years of familiarity and conscious decisions to put the other first. But it's also never been as exciting, or as passionate. Still there is no reason to discount that. Passion and excitement die and leave nothing but the burnt out remains.

He remembers the burnt out remains.

But he can't help but react to her. He's never been able to help it. He's always been drawn to her, he is just grateful that now he knows restraint. That he is not as reckless and self destructive as he once was.

But he's still afraid to test his limits.

And now she has so much more to draw him to her. He wants to ask all kinds of questions about his daughter. He wants to ask about Cass. He wants to know about her. About Aaron. He wants to know what happened to make her stop chasing the man who was never worthy of her affections.

He wants to know if she stayed awake at night too. He wants to know he wasn't alone.

But he's not alone. He has Juliet.

He hates that he feels guilty even thinking about what he wants to know.

He tells himself that whatever happened, happened. That there is nothing any of them can do to stop it or change it. He tells himself that there is no reason to seek answers for his questions. Only reasons not to.

It would have been so much better if they had never come back. He's not ready to face them. If he'd had another year, perhaps then...

But he's knows that's not true. He knows that it wouldn't matter _when_ she came back. It would always be a constant struggle. There are some people you can't burn out of your heart. Some people who you never forget.

He let her go because he had to. He never expected her to come back. Especially so changed.

He worries he hasn't changed enough. He worries it's all going to fall apart.

He worries he misses her more now that she's here.

He worries she'll bring out the worst in him or much worse the best.

He knows he has good reason to worry. He wishes he didn't know himself half as well as he does. Hopes he was wrong. That a tiger can change its stripes. That they don't always have to be so toxic to each other.

He catches himself staring when he knows he shouldn't. Lingers a little to long.

It's ok though, he doesn't mean anything by it. They are friends, they can only be friends.

But that doesn't stop that part of him that wants to brush her hair from her face. It doesn't stop the itch in his fingers to take inventory of each freckle. Or the ache in his arms to pull her close once more and let those three words slip out.

" _I missed you."_

" _Glad you're back."_

" _I didn't forget."_

" _I love..."_

He didn't. He loved an ideal. A fictional character he created. And even if he had loved her, it wouldn't matter. He wouldn't hurt the one person in his life who actually mattered.

So he continues to hope he's changed enough.

And above it all he's glad she finally jumped from her own helicopter.

Even if it means it makes his life that much harder.


	10. Perfect Timing

 

* * *

**Perfect Timing  
**

First Place winner of the "Somewhere a clock is ticking," challenge. 

_AU of things unsaid and realities that never were_

* * *

 

I've got this feeling that there's something that I missed  
Don't you breathe, don't you breathe  
Something happened, that I never understood  
You can't leave, you can't leave  
Every second, dripping off my fingertips  
Wage your war, wage your war  
Another soldier, says he's not afraid to die  
I am scared, I'm so scared  
In slow motion, the blast is beautiful  
Doors slam shut, doors slam shut  
A clock is ticking, but it's hidden far away  
Safe and sound, safe and sound  
 _Somewhere a Clock is Ticking- Snow Patrol_

* * *

There was never enough time.

At home she had a clock, aged and worn, but trusty. It ticked softly from their mantle, counting down the days, hours, minutes... What it was counting down to she didn't know, just as she never knew why she was always so certain it was counting down and not up. Why was it not collecting seconds instead of spending them?

Until perhaps now, when that clock was so far away from her and her life was passing before her.

It had never mattered quite so much as now.

Much of her life has been wasted on pondering those stupid little things. The collection of time on a mantle meant so little now. She wishes she hadn't misspent any of that precious commodity.

For example, why he jumped was not so important in the reality of day to day. All that mattered was that he was gone and she would not see him again. There was no time.

So much of her time had been wasted on a question she would never have an answer to.

Late at night when she could not sleep, when Jack snored too loud. Or the room grew too small. The air too heavy. The bed too hard. She found herself staring at that clock on her mantle counting down the minutes, a little too often. Her fingertips knew its smooth surface, like her heart knew its own beat.

And his.

The antique wood gleamed beautifully in the dim light and the loving attention.

Like him.

It was hardly something she had noticed in the beginning. When she'd first acquired the clock it had been because it would look good on the mantle, because she had the money now. Because... well she doesn't really remember all the reasons. All she knows is that she has spent way too many hours in front of it, wishing the night away. Too many hours wasted on dreaming up her return.

It was the only time she let herself wonder what could have been.

And her dreams never could have passed as reality. She'd been far too generous back then. Reality was cold, hard and bitter. It left her as it always did.

Alone.

She doesn't know when she replaced the reasons for visiting that clock, when it became a link to him... The only important part is that when she missed him she found herself in front of that clock counting down, looking back. Wondering why such a short period of time, a brief collection of days, had left such an impact on her.

It wasn't till she returned to the Island that she remembered.

There was never any time. What time they had back then, had been all the more precious because of it.

Jack thought the clock was ugly. She wonders if he understood too well what she thought of late at night when she stood in front of the fire lovingly winding it back up, or caressing its tired wooden frame.

It's silly, she thinks, to have become so attached to a clock. But it was so dependable, so constant. It kept her from flying apart sometimes. When Aaron was too much to handle, when she had had a particularly ugly argument with Jack, its familiar tick kept her going. She could trust it to keep ticking. To greet her on the hour, every hour, with a happy chime. To stay steady in times of crisis. It always had her back.

And now... it was thousands of miles away and she would probably never see her 'home' again.

Heaven knew that if ever she needed the reassuring tick of that clock, it was now. Now when she's back on the island.

Back in time.

With only fifteen minutes left.

She thinks it's even sillier now, to still dwell on a clock. Wonders if perhaps it is to keep her mind occupied in these last few moments.

In a few weeks, thousands of miles from here, she would be born.

It was a strange but humbling thought. Knowing that somewhere out there, another her would be coming into the world, destined to live the same life. Go through the same pains. The same joys. Somewhere out there a clock would be ticking down her life. So many days until this. Whatever this was.

One way or another, she wouldn't be around for the event.

Because there was never any time on the Island.

She wants to talk about this, about the emptiness of her arms and the lack of a small blond boy's attention.

About the fear that she won't ever see him again, that this won't work. That he won't know her, even if perhaps that is for the best.

She wants to talk about how finding him here with her still hurt. How his nickname for her still stirs something inside.

How they never had enough time.

How none of it mattered anyway.

She wants to be able to run to her clock and know that everything is still in order. The universe still functioned the way it was supposed to. Time still ticked by at the same pace it always did.

But she doesn't even have that.

What she does have is eight hundred and thirty-two seconds to say goodbye to everything she's ever known or cared about. Because in eight hundred and thirty-three seconds she will either be dead, or on a plane back to her old life.

In the end she couldn't get on the sub with them. She didn't belong out there any more than she belonged here. If the Incident killed her, perhaps that was just the way it was supposed to be. If Jack changed things, then getting on a sub and leaving the Island wasn't going to change the fact that she'd be back on that plane in cuffs in almost no time at all.

What she could do was give him up. She could give Juliet that at least. He wasn't hers and she had not come back to the Island to get him back. Even if a part of her still loved him, it didn't change the fact that not going with them was the right choice.

So she sat on the water's edge, not far from where the sub left mere moments ago. Just far enough, with just enough obstructions so that she could not see the departure. She was only human after all. Watching them go would have been too much for her.

She is terrified of what is before her. She almost hopes that it doesn't work. That she will be engulfed in the warm welcome of black death. She's scared she'll remember this life, all the people she learned to love and care for. At the same time terrified she'll forget them.

But once more... none of that mattered. Time was... well it was over.

She pulled her knees to her chest, rested her chin on them.

Thirteen minutes.

There was a rustle in the bushes to her right. She pulled her gun and waited patiently. She wasn't going down early, that was for certain.

"There you are. C'mon, let's get out of here."

She couldn't believe her eyes. He was standing right in front of her. But he was supposed to be on the sub with Juliet. He was supposed to go and not look back.

"We couldn't leave you here, Freckles." He held his hand out to her to help her up. She hesitated. "Now! We don't have time to hang around!"

"There never is." She sighed and took his hand. He pulled her to her feet and took off running back in the direction of the sub. What surprised her, however, was that he didn't let go of her hand.

She should let go, definitely before they got back to the sub. But it was comforting, running beside him, connected. It had been so long since she felt connected to anyone.

As they reached the dock he stopped suddenly and she slammed into him.

"Damn!" He swore and dropped her hand. She followed his line of sight to the end of the dock and the sub disappearing under the water. Too far away.

"I'm sorry..." She murmured. This wasn't how it was supposed to be. She left them so they could be together, not so he could come after her and miss the sub.

He spun around so his back was to her, his eyes toward the sky.

"I think I knew she was saying goodbye when she told me to come find you. I think she has been for awhile now." He sighed.

"You shouldn't have come back for me." Kate almost whispered. She wanted him to, she'd needed him to. But at this cost? She hated that she was a little glad not to be alone. Hated that she was relieved he was here with her in the end.

"How could I not?" He spun back around to face her, the conflict written in his creased brow. He still loved her, he probably always would. And when Juliet had offered to wait while he went for her, he'd for one moment thought that she understood. Perhaps she did, perhaps that's why she left. She knew he could never choose between them.

"I don't know. God, Sawyer I..." She threw her hands down, turned her head to the side.

He stepped closer to her and grabbed her wrists.

"Are you scared?" He asked softly and she turned her head to face him.

Never enough time.

"Terrified." She admitted with tears building in her eyes. He pulled her to his chest. She pushed against him.

"Juliet- I won't do this to her." She objected to the comfort of his arms. To finding herself exactly where she needed to be.

"She left, Freckles." He paused, all of the time they'd spent together flashing in front of his eyes. "...and yeah, I love her. But she isn't here." And she never would be again, suprisingly he was comforted in the fact that she had gotten away. There was peace in knowing that she would find happiness without him. He was not essential to her wellbeing and he never had been.

"...She made her choice. We have ten minutes left before everything changes. Just... don't fight me." He ran his finger down the side of her face and under her chin to force her to look at him. "There isn't enough time."

He wished things could be different. Wished that this wasn't the end. That he had figured out what Juliet knew from the moment Kate walked back into his life. A part of him wished that it wasn't true even. That he could be back on that sub with Juliet where things were less complicated, less painful, less colorful. Safe.

But he wasn't. And there wasn't any part of him that could deny how nice it was to have her back in his arms again. There wasn't time to play that game. No extra seconds stored away for subterfuge. Only the truth, brilliant in the light of the dwindling day.

"I know." This time she did cry. For him. For her. For everything they'd lost. For every missed opportunity. For all the words that had never been spoken. "Why did you come back?"

He didn't really know the answer to her question, and it wasn't important. She'd be gone from his arms soon and he didn't want to waste time trying to figure out what his heart always knew. She knew the answer already.

"I don't know, Kate. " He sighed. "It's not important." She buried her face in his chest.

Even in the end she wanted answers to questions she didn't need to ask. Words meant so little, the fact that he had returned to her spoke more than anything he could ever say. But there were still words she needed to speak. Words she'd never spoken and he deserved to hear,

"I love you. I never said it, and I should have." She murmured and he pressed her close.

He smiled, his heart warm with her love.

"I know. I love you too." He kissed the crown of her head.

She still smelled the same, her hair that same fine silk, her warm curves so familiar. He let himself breathe her in for a second. Collecting each freckle, cataloging every angle and plane of her soft skin. The way muscle and bone met. So that his fingertips would know her smooth surface like his heart knew it's own beat. With the rhythm of her heart, beating so perfectly in time, he could measure the moments by it.

After a brief pause, silent and full of wonder, he caught her face in his hands and guided her eyes to his.

"Tell me about it." It didn't matter what she said as long as she said something. He needed to hear her voice, listen to her fears. Soothe her troubled mind if he could.

She smiled sadly. There was so much to tell, so she decided to start at the beginning, with the fear that weighed so heavily on her now, she thought she'd collapse under the weight.

"I killed a man, you knew that. He was my father. That's why I was on that plane. That's what I'm going back to... but even with all that... it's not..."

"That's not what bothers you the most." He interrupted, knowing what she was getting to. The very thing that bothered him.

"No... It's not..." She smiled weakly. "Forget it, we have seven minutes and this is all gone." She sighed and looked away. He caught her cheek and turned her sad green eyes back to his.

"That's the part that bothers you."

With all the things they could talk about, all the secrets she'd kept, or truths undiscovered, they mattered so little in that moment.

She placed her hand on his cheek.

"You too."

"Freckles..." His sigh was heavy as he nodded in agreement.

He had so many things to tell her. So many wrongs to right.

"I thought I loved Cass, once. But she's right, I was a coward. That's not why I jumped though. I needed you to be safe. I needed you to be happy. Kate, I would have done anything."

She sniffled loudly, half laughter, half tears.

"I know." She rested her head against his chest for a moment. "I know. I've always... known." She pulled back to face him again. "Do me a favor?"

"Anything."

"Find your daughter. Be her father. You'd make a wonderful dad. I know how scary it is..."

"Don't Kate, don't say goodbye." He interrupted, his eyes were full as hers continued to spill over. "I just got you back."

"There's never enough" She started. "...time." He finished.

She smiled.

"I always knew you'd break my heart." He smiled.

"In five minutes you won't remember my name." He kissed her forehead.

"Not possible, Freckles."

"Do you regret any of it? Is this the ending you'd prefer?" She asked, searched his eyes for an answer.

"What I regret is not having this conversation when it would have done us some good. Not being able to wipe that doubt and fear from your face. What I regret is not being able to share enough of the good times with you. And the ending I'd prefer... Kate, I don't know what I want. But I do know that not ever knowing you..." He drifted off, brought one finger up to trace her lips. "...never kissing you...never holding you..." His other arm wrapped around her waist and pulled her tight. "...never loving you... those are things I never wanted. You were the one who started this. You made me look at myself... Kate, I'm a better man for knowing you."

"I kept him because of you..." She admitted. Sawyer looked at her confused.

"Aaron. I couldn't let him go. Not after everything. He  
was my connection to you. He was my everything for three years. I loved him like he was mine, and sometimes... I'd wish he was yours too."

"Oh Kate... You don't need to..." He tried to pull her closer but she resisted.

"No, let me finish..." He nodded for her to continue. "I never wanted to be a mother, but you gave me that chance even though you never intended to. It was also because of you that I gave him up. He wasn't mine to keep, he never would be and holding on to him to fill the hole you left in my life... I'd always be looking over my shoulder and expecting the worst. And even though I never thought I'd see you again... I knew I couldn't look you in the eye if I didn't. So I grew up too."

"I'd have to be blind not to notice. You've turned into an amazing woman, Freckles. Someone I'll never forget... It's almost time." He murmured softly into her hair.

"I know."

But surprisingly it was enough. She didn't need confessions of love, or secrets spilled out. She just needed him as he was. The fear was gone, he always made it better. Even as the clock ticked down the last few moments.

"Thank you... I'll never love anyone like I loved you, James."

He leaned in and rested his forehead against hers. He would miss her, even if he didn't remember. Miss the way her lips turned up in a smirk, or the way the light bounced off her curls. It didn't matter what it was about her, he just knew that part of him would always be where she was.

"Let's do this right for once." He mumbled before closing the gap between them.

"Freckles." He whispered against her lips.

"I would have kissed you without the con." She whispered back.

He kissed her softly.

"You still taste like strawberries."

"Fish biscuits." She teased.

"I'll show you fish biscuits..." She giggled and then he stole her breath away with his lips.

Everything went black.

* * *

He has a clock, it sits on his mantle. His daughter, Clementine, gave it to him for Father's Day a few years back. It's one of those older models, antique, tired and worn.

But it keeps perfect time...

Almost like the beat of a heart.


	11. Sleepwalking

* * *

**Sleepwalking  
**

_The group seemed to be divided between those who couldn't close their eyes, and those who refused to open them. Random scene post season 5._

* * *

The dew collected around them, falling silently on each blade of grass. The tired scraps of blanket, a backpack here, or a water bottle there. Accompanied only by the dim light of the moon as it lurked behind a bush, or slivered between branches. Insects chirping, an occasional rustle as someone tossed in their sleep, or an animal scurried away from the encampment.

Her eyes were glued to the glow of the flames. The fire burning in the midst of the weary group.

Sayid was on watch, and every once in awhile he'd poke at the flames, inspiring new life or prodding them on forcing them to continue on their never ceasing path of destruction. Kate couldn't decide which. Hopeless was probably too complex an emotion to assign to a simple chemical reaction. But as it seemed to be the general feeling that hung over all their heads at the moment, it had become a common attribute of most anything.

She couldn't sleep.

Hadn't in days.

She wasn't the only one though. The group seemed to be divided between those who couldn't close their eyes, and those who refused to open them. Consequently, most of them walked around in a near dream state. Dazed and simply going through the motions for lack of anything else to do.

She was tired of pretending she was still among the living. Wanted only to cross over into that group who refused to wake up. Desperately longed for the oblivion of sleep. To close her eyes and forget for just a moment.

Wrapping her arms around herself, she closed her eyes and tried counting.

One... One inch further and she could have reached.

Two... The two of them reaching down that pit...

Three... Three days later... years... weeks... Who even knew anymore?

Four... God, she wished she could forget.

Five... More minutes of this and she might lose it entirely.

Counting never worked.

Nothing worked. And now she was here and everything was broken.

She caught her lower lip in her teeth and bit back the scream inside. Hugged her arms tighter. The chill of the night creeping under her clothes and resting against her skin. Encasing her in a numb, frosty cocoon.

She opened her eyes. Her teeth cutting into her lip.

He was watching... or not.

She couldn't tell with him anymore.

He belonged to the other group now. The group that wouldn't wake up.

Trapped in his own hell. A silent, motionless hell. One no one seemed to be able to wake him from.

When Juliet had disappeared down that pit. He might as well have gone with her.

She bit down harder at the ache inside as it twisted her heart into a tiny knot.

His eyes were cold and empty but she met them with her own. Stared passed the fire and the huddled group. Tried to erase the distance between them or draw him out.

He turned his head away and something inside snapped.

The scream that had been clawing at her throat for days transformed into something else. It choked her as her eyes filled, then silently overflowed to join the dew on the ground.

It hadn't worked.

People died.

They were going nowhere.

There was nothing left.

And watching them... no, watching him fall apart...

It was too much.

So she rolled over and closed her eyes.

Her back to the fire.

To them. The stupid group of people that had become her second family. Who refused to wake up or go to damn sleep.

To him. The only man who could ever break her heart so utterly completely without doing a thing. The only person whose anguish she was willing to adopt if it meant she'd hear that drawl or see that smirk. If even for a second it could make him forget.

She needed... she needed...

Sleep.

Comfort.

Dreams.

But all she would get would be a fire, too far away. Too long forgotten. But it's memory still on her skin whenever he caught her eye. A silent blanket of mist. A heavy and tired heart. And the aching stillness. The unbearable aching stillness.

She was not asking for his love. She did not deserve it or want it.

But she might need her best friend back.

He could not even look at her. Even in his near catatonic state.

She hated this place.

This island. This godforsaken island that made everything on it crazy.

She wanted to scream again. Could taste blood on her lip where she bit a little too hard and pierced the skin.

Blood and tears.

That's all the island ever wanted.

She was crazy. Delirious with that desperate darkness that demanded to take control.

Craved oblivion. The ache inside asking for erasure. Begging to be blinded. Shouting for silence.

She held her breath.

Willed herself to stop breathing. Stop functioning. To just stop.

Her lungs screamed louder than her will, and as things got hazy and dizzy, air rushed passed her lips in a barely audible gasp.

No, she could not even control that.

 

* * *

She stood by him. Even when he shut her out.

Always hovering just out of reach.

Waiting.

He could not give her anything.

Why didn't she understand that?

Everything he was went down that hole.

He had nothing left for her.

But he could not watch her suffer.

So he looked away.

It was cold.

It was late.

And he knew her well enough to know she wasn't sleeping.

How long had it been?

Days... weeks? Did it matter?

He heard her shift away and risked a look through the corner of his eye.

Her back was to him. Those thin arms wrapped around herself.

He fingered the blanket draped over him. She'd done that.

She'd given him her blanket, her warmth, and then walked away. Placing the distance he expected from her between them. Following his silent rules.

Because she'd known it was what he needed.

He stared at her back, wishing he was man enough to give her something.

He knew she didn't need much. She never had.

Her back moved up and down in quick little pants and he knew...

She was crying.

Alone.

He hated himself even more.

He glanced around, taking the camp in for the first time.

Everyone huddled around a fire in the middle of the jungle.

It wasn't a camp. It was a pit stop.

Exhaustion had claimed most of them, and even the dew settling around them and the chill air could not arouse them from their slumber. There were a few fitful sleepers, and a couple pretending sleep as well, but even they could not be disturbed from their own thoughts.

It looked as if they'd all simply dropped where they stopped walking. Cut off from reality and each other.

He'd hoped someone would be aware of her suffering. That someone would do something.

And for a moment he'd thought he might get his wish, as Sayid turned his head and glanced briefly at Kate. But he too, seemed too busy with his own misery to offer comfort to anyone else.

A fire burned in the pit of his stomach.

Sayid owed her. His life had been saved when the sky flashed. The least he could do was to offer her comfort.

Couldn't they tell how much she needed it?

Sawyer wished Hurley was awake. He'd know what to do. At the very least he could have gotten him to give Kate her blanket back. If it came from Hurley it would be alright. He just couldn't give it to her himself.

She shivered and pulled her knees closer to her chest.

He swallowed and sat up.

Maybe if he tossed a rock in his direction. Sawyer contemplated doing just that as he stared at Hurley's sleeping form a few feet away, but decided that it would cause too much noise and that she'd look over at them. He wouldn't be able to secretly give Hurley the blanket to give to her, if she was watching the whole thing.

No, he was going to have to be a man about it, or go back to sleep.

He laid back down and turned his back to her.

He was more awake than he had been in days.

Every little sniffle echoed in his ears. He'd give her credit for being almost deathly silent, but his guilty conscious couldn't shut out anything. Deafening him with the reality that lay not ten feet from him.

Maybe he could just stand up, walk over, and drop the blanket by her, then come back.

At least then he might be able to go back to sleep and stop worrying about how cold she must be.

He could do that.

He could just walk over there and come back, and it would be alright.

So he stood and softly crept to the other side of the fire. Sayid's eyes followed him for only a moment before turning back to the flames in front of him. When Sawyer reached her side he paused. She had not heard him approach and he knew he should drop the blanket and quickly retreat, but as his eyes caught hold of her closed ones and her cheeks wet with tears he found himself unable to move.

She looked like he felt inside. And she had no one hovering at her side to take care of her.

No one to make sure she ate. Cover her with a blanket at night. Watch over her to make sure she slept.

He sunk to his knees behind her.

He watched her chest still as she held her breath.

He held his too.

They let go together, and he knew in that moment that she needed him more than he needed her to stay away.

 

* * *

There was movement behind her. She quickly wiped at her eyes, as a familiar blanket descended over her and a distant memory wrapped his arm around her waist. His chest against her back, her first response was to try and move away.

His arm pulled her flat against him and he drawled softly in her ear.

"Don't move."

She obeyed. Held her breath and silently counted the seconds.

"Breathe." He coaxed softly.

She must have fallen asleep.

She must be dreaming.

But she took a deep breath anyway. Then followed it with another. And another.

"I'm awake now, Freckles. It's your turn to sleep."

And so for the first time in days... weeks? She did.


	12. Still Looking For Life

* * *

**Still Looking For Life  
**

_Post Ep for 6x14 The Candidate_   
_Kate and Sawyer share a few moments on the beach._

* * *

The broken clock is a comfort, it helps me sleep tonight  
Maybe it can stop tomorrow from stealing all my time  
I am here still waiting though I still have my doubts  
I am damaged at best, like you've already figured out

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing  
With a broken heart that's still beating  
In the pain there is healing  
In your name I find meaning

The broken locks were a warning you got inside my head  
I tried my best to be guarded, I'm an open book instead  
And I still see your reflection inside of my eyes  
That are looking for purpose, they're still looking for life

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing  
With a broken heart that's still beating  
In the pain is the healing  
In your name I find meaning  
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on  
I'm barely holdin' on to you

I'm hangin' on another day  
Just to see what you will throw my way  
And I'm hangin' on to the words you say  
You said that I will, will be ok

The broken lights on the freeway left me here alone  
I may have lost my way now, having forgot my way home

I'm falling apart, I'm barely breathing  
With a broken heart that's still beating  
In the pain is there is healing  
In your name I find meaning  
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on  
I'm barely holdin' on to you  
So I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on, I'm holdin' on

**Broken- Lifehouse**

* * *

He could feel the sunlight dance across his heavy eyelids. Warm, but not welcoming. A harsh reminder that he needed to wake up, that something wasn't right. His next thought was that he must have overdone it the night before, his head was pounding like a freight train running through his brain. His throat raw and his mouth dry... and distinctly salty. Like maybe he'd swallowed half the ocean... ocean...

He bolted up, his eyes screaming as the midday sun assaulted them. His head spinning from the abrupt movement. His heart pounding as he searched the horizon frantically.

_There was a bomb._

He was sitting in the sand not far from the ocean. A small campfire burned close by.

_The sub._

The sky was mostly overcast, the sun only breaking through the cloud cover every now and then as memories of what had happened the night before rushed back to him with a harsh and unforgiving sting.

_Kate._

God, not her too.

"Easy there. You're giving me whiplash just watching you."

Her voice was quiet and pained, and came from just behind him.

Not her. She was ok.

His heart settled in his chest as worry started to close around his lungs.

She wasn't ok, they were on a damn island. She had a bullet in her shoulder and a freaking mad man out to get her. Not to mention his crazed follower. He was going to get her off, she was going to be safe away from all of them. Then this happened.

Damn it all to hell.

She could see the concern cloud his features.

"It went straight through. I'll be fine... You were." She placated. "How's your head?"

He groaned as her words sunk in and the fear retreated just enough to remind him. He probably shouldn't have sat up so fast.

She had been laying perpendicular to him, her head in the sand just behind his, their bodies angled around the campfire. He could see the vauge scattered imprints of two other bodies in the sand, completing the ring.

"Hurts like hell. How's your shoulder?" He groaned slightly as he settled back down in the sand. It seemed to help with the dark spots that had begun to dance across his vision and the ringing in his ears.

"About the same."

He smiled. Why it amused him, he didn't know. Maybe it was just the fact that she could sit there and talk about it like it was nothing. Maybe it was the feelings of friendship, that closeness they'd always had. Things had been good between them lately.

They laid in silence for awhile and then he shifted his feet away from the campfire, turning to lie parallel to her. His face about a foot from hers.

"Where is everyone?"

She hesitated a moment before answering, and when she finally spoke it was so soft he almost couldn't hear her.

"Jack went to look for some supplies and Hurley said he'd be back shortly. He didn't mention where he was going..."

She bit her lip and closed her eyes. His fingers itched to brush across her closed lids and coax them open. To offer some kind of comfort to her.

He didn't have to ask about everyone else. He supposed he knew it from the moment he woke up. It was only clarified by the way her body stiffened, as she drew in a deep breath.

"Everyone else?" He asked anyway. Some part of him needed it confirmed with the awful words. But he couldn't bring himself to use names.

Her eyes swam with tears that threatened to spill over. She swallowed back emotion.

His hand moved unbidden to trace her cheekbone. It seemed those unseen powers of hers still existed. Her ability to draw him to her in a physical way, when he saw the sadness in her. The need to touch away her tears. To connect with her on the most basic level.

"Gone." She whispered shakily.

"I'm sorry. I should have... God Freckles, I'm sorry." He sighed.

She moved her uninjured hand up and held his hand against her cheek. The tension drained from her body.

"Not your fault."

But it was. He felt it in his gut. If he'd just trusted Jack, maybe they wouldn't be in this mess. Maybe Jack was right. Maybe he'd killed them. If he hadn't been so determined to do things his way. Maybe she wouldn't have been shot.

"It's not." She whispered again. Looking right through him. Her sparkling green eyes offering absolution. "You didn't do anything wrong."

He shook his head, leaned his forehead against hers. If only it were so easy. If only she really could make it all go away with a word or two.

"If I hadn't..."

She transferred her hand from on top of his, to rest on his cheek. Her touch so soothing. He wondered sometimes if it was like this for her too. If his hand on her cheek, or his arm around her waist, eased that ache deep inside, ever so slightly. He hoped that it did, and could almost believe that it had in the past.

"If I hadn't..." she whispered back at him, countering his own. "The truth is, none of us could have known. If you want to take responsibility for it, then we all have to take responsibility for it. It's never going to be one person's fault."

He sighed and tried to pull away, but she wrapped her other hand around his neck and held him close.

"I'm sorry, too. I'm sorry I was such a fool back when it mattered."

"Freckles..." He released his hold on her, and pried her hands from around his neck. He couldn't hear this. Not now, maybe not ever.

Things were good between them. There was no need to muddy the waters now. Especially when neither of them knew if they'd be around tomorrow.

He rolled on his back and watched the clouds. She knew she was losing him. Things were harder now. It was near impossible sometimes to tell what would set him off. Though she supposed she was no picnic either. She wondered had she been honest and open with him three years ago, if she'd have run into similar walls. They never really talked about things back then. She never wanted to. Now she found the words always wanting to slip from her tongue. It was hard to remember to bite them back sometimes. Hard to remember that he wasn't ready to talk. That trying only caused him to withdraw.

"That's all. I just... I guess I thought you should know. I understand, you know." She tried to awkwardly bridge the gap.

He didn't think she could understand. But he didn't want to argue with her about it. So instead he continued to stare at the clouds and hope that she'd drop it.

He still didn't speak and she wondered what possessed her to continue. Perhaps it was the three years between them. Maybe she just couldn't stand the thought of leaving things unsaid. Something had changed in their dynamic, something that made her feel safe. She'd always known he have her back. That he could be counted on in a tight spot. But since they'd reunited, she felt safe in other ways. Like maybe he could keep her secrets as well.

"I didn't have any expectations. I don't have any now either. I loved someone with all my heart. I came back to do right by him. Even if that meant I'd never get to tuck him in at night again, or read him his favorite story. That's all. But I missed this, too. Your friendship is unlike any other I've ever had."

He sat up slowly, this time the world stayed right where it was supposed to. He didn't know what to do with her words. He still didn't think she could understand just what he'd lost, but he knew she'd come closer than any of the others had. He'd known that from the moment he saw her again. Been able to read through the lines and see the sadness that followed her like a heavy, dark cloud. It rested in every hollow of her body, graced every movement, and colored every conversation. Always lurking behind her, waiting. At first he'd mistaken it for grief at her failed attempt at a relationship with Jack. But time had proven to him that Jack had nothing to do with it.

It wasn't until he'd seen her plead with Claire, the woman who had tried to kill her, that he finally knew just where it had come from. He had to admit to being somewhat surprised by it. She had changed. He supposed he'd known that from that first hug as well, but couldn't admit to it then.

Even before he'd known why she wore her grief so silently, he'd known that he needed to be with her though. Even when he'd wanted her to stay far away from him, he'd known that eventually she was the only one who could make the pain bearable. The only one he would even think about sharing his silence with. Perhaps that's why he'd pushed her so far away. Maybe he'd been trying to ignore the inevitable. Or more likely spit at it.

It wasn't just her pain that drew him to her. His did just as good a job of it. Deny it as he might, she gave him the strength to go on when he was without a reason. Life was better when he had her by his side.

He wrapped his arms around his knees and watched the waves.

"James, if I don't..." Her voice distant, weighing her future, and the likelihood of her not making it out of this.

He turned around in a flash. Anger in his eyes and on every line of his face. She wasn't even going to think like that.

"No." He stated simply.

"But.." Her eyes watered, and he felt the pressure build in his as he met them with a cold stare.

"No."

She looked away first. That lower lip of hers finding it's place, worried between her teeth. There was a very real possibility that infection would set in. She was no stranger to what that looked like. They'd almost lost Sawyer to his gunshot wound. There was no telling when or if they'd have to run again, or if Jack would be able to find any kind of medical supplies. It was foolish not to think about it. To at least weight it as a possibility.

But his stare told her that nothing but survival was an option for her. As if his will alone could determine it.

He slid over to her in the sand and gently pulled her upper body into his lap. His right arm rested across her stomach, and her hands came up to cling to it. His left hand brushed the hair from her face, and the tears from her cheeks. He drew the worry that gnawed at her stomach from her skin with his rough fingertips. She wondered how he always seemed to be able to soothe that inner turmoil with just a touch.

"No." He whispered, gently this time. "I missed you too damn much to lose you now. So you better get any of those ugly thoughts out of that pretty head of yours, Freckles."

She giggled, then grimaced as her shoulder jostled against his knee. Somehow the pain that shot through her wounded shoulder seemed less real when he held her close and whispered that he missed her. He made the whole thing more bearable.

"Go to sleep." He ordered. "I'm not gonna feed you mashed up fruit and play nurse like you did. I won't be nearly as good at it. So you better get yourself some sleep and get better fast."

"Yes Sir." She mocked then closed her eyes.

"Damn straight." He brushed her hair back. The vibrations from his words, resonating inside of her hollowness, filling in some of the space.

She opened one eye.

"Shut up. I'm trying to sleep." She smirked. She hoped he never stopped talking. There was something calming about his voice.

"You just wait until it's time for your physical therapy, young lady."

She laughed, flashing a smile. The one that lit up the darkest corners of his heart.

And for the first time in a long time he felt it.

Whole.

Yeah... he missed this.


End file.
